"So when are you leaving?"
"I don't know. My client will let me know when she has the tickets."
"Are you going to call Fiona to tell her?"
He thought about hearing her voice again, telling her what he felt, asking her to marry him. "I don't think so," he finally replied. "I want to be face-to-face with her when I tell her. She may toss me out on my ear. When I think of the way I behaved most of the time I was there, I wouldn't blame her."
Tina said, "Would this lady be my new mommy?"
"If she agrees to marry me, yes."
Tina clapped her hands. "Good. I want to have a mommy." Her gaze suddenly went to Helen. "You're a good mommy," she began, before Helen stopped her.
"No, I'm your grandmother. I'll always be your grandmother. You're absolutely right. It's time you had a real mommy. We'll hope that Fiona is willing to take on the Dumas crew … and maybe the Santinis, as well."
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^
Three weeks after he left Glen Cairn, Greg was returning. He'd had better luck in finding Mr. McCloskey at home this time. The solicitor confirmed that Kelly and Fiona were part of a set of triplets. Now that Kelly was there, he gave them the name of the family who adopted the third sister and their last known address. He explained that he could not ethically give out such information to anyone except the triplets themselves.
At that point Kelly sent him to Fiona to prepare her for their meeting.
He'd stopped for lunch and to fill up the rental car with gas earlier in the day. Impatient to see her again, he was on his way within the hour. By the time he reached the turnoff to Fiona's place, his heart was racing. For the past week he'd been mentally rehearsing what he would say to her, depending on her reaction to seeing him again. He was as prepared as he knew how to be, regardless of the reception he received.
Except for the one he got.
He pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of the cottage. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, which meant she must have spent most of the day in the village.
Well, he could do something about that. He knew where she kept a spare key to the back door. He could visit with McTavish until she returned home.
With his plan in place, Greg stepped out of the car, glad that he had bought a coat and boots in Edinburgh for this kind of weather. He waited for McTavish to start barking as he walked around the cottage, but there wasn't a sound. Nor was there any sign of Tiger.
He felt for the key and found it, then let himself into the kitchen.
The place was cold enough to hang meat, he thought. There was a bone-gripping cold that felt as though it had been there for days.
Greg looked around the kitchen, trying to figure out what was different. Then it hit him. The place looked bare. Outside of the usual appliances and the table and chairs, there was nothing sitting out.
He headed toward the front of the house. "McTavish? Where are you, boy?" He stopped in the doorway of the living room. The place had been stripped bare of all those things that had made it look warm and cozy. The furniture remained except for the small desk where he'd worked, but the books, the afghans, the throw rug in front of the fire and all the knickknacks that women seemed to collect were gone.
He took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom was equally bare, the bed stripped down to the mattress. He tried to think. Who could he ask about her? Then he remembered the farmer who had kept McTavish for them, Patrick McKay.
He wasted no time leaving the cottage, after he made certain it was locked again and the extra key returned to its place.
He half hoped that McTavish would greet him as he had once before, but when he pulled up, the farmyard was empty of animals. Dusk had descended since he'd first arrived at Fiona's cottage. Warm light spilled from the windows of the house while the scent of a peat fire hung in the air.
His heart pounded in his chest and he broke out in a cold sweat. The warm glow of light from the farmhouse windows and smelling the peat burning strongly reminded him of Fiona. The scent had caught him off guard, taking him back to his stay with Fiona—of keeping the fire going while he went through files, of watching the way the firelight gilded her hair. As though he'd just left her bed, he was suddenly bombarded with the scenes and sounds that surrounded them his last night with her.
Where was she? He'd been prepared to tell her everything he'd refused to discuss when he was here before. He needed to tell her how much he loved her and wanted her as a permanent part of his life.
He fought the panic that threatened to overcome him at the thought he would never be able to find her.
Greg gave his head a quick shake and got out of the car. Patrick answered the door on the first knock.
"Well, hello. It's Greg, isn't it?" Patrick asked. "I thought I heard a car outside, but when nobody got out, I thought maybe somebody had gotten lost and was using our driveway to turn around."
Lost was a good way to describe what Greg was feeling at the moment.
"Come in, come in, and get yourself warmed. Have you eaten? We still have food on the stove."
"Oh, I don't want to bother you—" was all he got out before Patrick brushed his words aside.
"Nonsense. There's always plenty. I'll have Sharon dish up a plate for you." Greg was still reeling from the unexpected cordiality of the greeting. He was even more taken aback when Patrick asked, "So how is Fiona these days? We've really missed having her here. I have to admit that McTavish has quite a way about him. Don't tell her, but I've been missing McTavish almost as much as Fiona."
Patrick had gone ahead of Greg while Greg paused to wash his hands. By the time Greg walked into the kitchen, a large bowl of stew and a slab of freshly baked bread were on the table.
"I'm looking for Fiona and I was hoping you might know where I could find her." Greg sat down and began to eat.
"Why, I thought she was with you," Patrick replied, placing a steaming mug of coffee before him.
Greg stared at him in shock. "With me? Why would you think that?"
"Well, when she told us she was leaving after you'd been gone only a few days, I figured she must have decided to go with you. You mean she didn't?"
"No. I haven't been in touch with her. She'll come back to the cottage eventually, won't she?"
"She said the cottage had served its purpose. She told me when I rented it to her that she wasn't certain how long she'd be staying. I told her at the time she could stay as long as she liked. When she told me she was leaving, she apologized for the sudden notice, but it doesn't really matter. I've got a son who'll be moving back in a couple of months. He'll be glad to have a place to stay."
Greg felt exhausted after the long drive and the emotional gearing up to face her. Now to discover that she had disappeared was a shock.
"Well, I'm sorry you didn't know she'd moved," Patrick continued. "So that's why you're here … to see Fiona."
"Yes."
Patrick grinned. "I imagine she'll be pleased to see you."
Clumsily Greg got to his feet. "The meal was delicious and I thank you for it. Please tell your wife that I enjoyed it very much." He glanced at his watch. "I don't want to seem rude, but I need to get on the road."
"You can't be thinking about continuing your travels tonight. Why don't you spend the night with us and get an early start in the morning? We have plenty of beds around here and—if you don't mind my saying so—you look as if you could use a few hours of rest."
Greg couldn't believe the man's generosity. He thought about arguing, but he knew Patrick was right. He wasn't ready to face another long drive at the moment.
"I appreciate the offer. You're being very generous to someone you barely know."
Patrick stood and slapped Greg on the back. "Nonsense. Any friend of McTavish's is a friend of mine. Come on. I'll show you where you can sleep."
Once in bed, Greg had no trouble falling asleep. When he woke the next morning he realized that he'd slept better than he'd expected he would,
or perhaps he'd been more tired than he'd realized. He would tell his hosts goodbye and get on the road. He intended to find Fiona, regardless of how long it took.
When he walked into the kitchen, Patrick and Sharon waved him to the table where a hearty breakfast awaited. An hour later, Greg waved goodbye to them as though they were longtime friends.
As soon as he was on his way, Greg's thoughts reverted to Fiona. He wanted to see her again, to hold her again, to explain to her why he had left so abruptly before, why he hadn't been able to talk to her earlier about the pain he carried. He wanted to hear her soothing voice and feel her gentle touch, see her smile and hear her laughter.
The enchanted cottage of his memory had been returned to an ordinary small house with well-used furniture and furnishings, awaiting someone else's presence to turn it into a home.
He drove to Craigmor because he had no idea where else to go. Perhaps Minnie would know where Fiona was.
There was no reason to think that anything had happened to her, but there was enough uncertainty to make him uneasy.
By the time he reached Craigmor he'd convinced himself that Fiona would be at her aunt's home.
He pulled into the driveway of the MacDonald family residence and stopped in front of the wide stone steps. He knocked several times before Becky opened the door.
"My goodness," she exclaimed. "Look who's here! Please come in, Mr. Dumas. The weather has grown a bit nippy since your last visit, don't you think?"
He hadn't noticed, partly because his coat and hat kept him warmer, he supposed.
"I'm sorry to bother you," he began, then stopped as Becky walked away, motioning him to follow her.
"Miss Minnie will be delighted to see you. She gets lonely at this time of year, which seems strange when you think about it, considering she's lived alone for years."
Greg felt his heart sink. If Minnie MacDonald was alone, Fiona must not be here.
He paused in the doorway of Minnie's sitting room. Minnie was ensconced in one of her chairs, carefully tucked in beneath a lap robe, reading in front of the fireplace. The scene was so reminiscent of the way Fiona used to spend her evenings that he ached with the memory.
She turned her head just as Becky said, "I'll get you something warm to drink. Coffee, isn't it?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Hello, Greg," Minnie said casually, as though he'd been away for no more than an hour or so. "Do come in and get warm. The winter weather seems to bring on all sorts of aches and pains to my old bones. Otherwise, I'd be up to greet you."
He slipped off his coat and cap and walked toward the fireplace.
"It's good to see you, Ms. MacDonald," he said quietly. "I hope you've been well." He sat in a nearby chair.
"Have you had lunch?" she asked, as Becky came in with a tray.
"Uh, no. I didn't bother to stop."
Becky smiled. "I'll see to it, young man. You stay right there."
Minnie poured a steaming cup of coffee for him, and filled another cup with tea for herself.
"What brings you back so soon, young man? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but when you left you seemed to feel your investigation was over."
He warmed his hands with the hot cup while he thought about how he wanted to answer her question. He needed to tell Fiona how he felt about her before discussing the matter with anyone else, so he said, "My client wanted to come to Scotland to confirm that she and Fiona are, in fact, sisters. She asked that I escort her and introduce her to Fiona."
"Ah. Where is your client?"
"In Edinburgh. When I explained to her that Fiona didn't know about their relationship, she thought the wisest course of action would be for me to discuss the matter with Fiona first before springing a long-lost sister on her."
"It was thoughtful of you to come see me," Minnie said. "Ever since the night you and I discussed this, I've been debating with myself about whether or not I should mention to Fiona her possible connection to your client. I couldn't decide the best course so I've ended up saying nothing to her."
"I've just come from Glen Cairn, thinking I would find Fiona there. Since she's moved, I'm hoping that you might know where I can find her."
Minnie sipped her tea and stared into the fireplace. She remained silent until she finished drinking and set the cup down.
"Well, it has turned out the way it needed to, I guess. I never questioned Jamie about why he made up such an elaborate story to tell everyone about Fiona's birth. The news isn't going to be easy for her to hear or accept."
"I know."
"Still … to find out that she has a sister might be just the thing to cheer her up. She's been in the doldrums lately."
His pulse leapt. "Then you've spoken with her recently?"
Minnie shrugged. "Not as much as I'd like. She told me she'd been back for more than a week before she called to say she had returned to Craigmor. I still haven't talked her into coming for a visit." She looked at Greg. "She's rather a stubborn thing, in case you haven't noticed."
"I've noticed," Greg replied dryly. "I'm hoping you can tell me where's she staying."
Becky returned with another tray, this time carrying a plate of steaming food. With practiced efficiency she opened a TV tray with one hand, placed the plate on it and once she'd set the other tray down, moved the food directly in front of him.
"You're spoiling me," he said to Becky after thanking her for her trouble. When she left the room, Minnie nodded toward the food. "Don't insult her by letting that get cold."
Greg dutifully began to eat, savoring each mouthful.
"You say you're looking for Fiona," Minnie said a few minutes later.
"Yes."
"She returned to her home here. She inherited it when Jamie and Meggie died, of course, but at the time she wasn't ready to live there. I'm not certain why she chose to come back, but whatever the reason, I'm pleased to have her closer, even though she insists she hasn't been able to get settled in enough for a visit." She glanced at him slyly. "Perhaps you can convince her otherwise."
He smiled without responding.
"I'll have Becky give you directions. I hope you'll bring your client to visit with me someday soon. I would enjoy getting to know her."
It was almost an hour later before he was able to get away from the two women who were filled with advice for him. As it turned out, Fiona's home was less than ten miles from Minnie's. When he pulled up in front of the house he could only stare around him in wonder.
The stone house stood on a promontory overlooking the loch. Rolling hills surrounded the area. The scene radiated serenity. The biggest difference between the area here and Glen Cairn was the thick foliage of the hills and the abundance of trees.
As soon as he stepped out of the car and opened the wooden gate, he heard a dog bark. McTavish had heard him. The bark was friendly and excited and Greg grinned. It sounded as if he would be welcomed by at least one resident of the house.
He followed the several steps up to a wide porch and walked to the front door, which had an oval pane of glass in it. He could see McTavish's feverish movements behind the door, but there was no other sign that someone was at home.
He knocked on the door and waited.
Although the hallway was shadowy, Greg could see enough of the stairway that he knew when Fiona started down the steps, talking to McTavish.
Then, she opened the door and stared at him in shock. He, on the other hand, drank in her presence as a man in the desert might react to the sight of an oasis. All he wanted to do at the moment was grab her and clutch her to him and beg her never to disappear from his life.
"Greg?" she said faintly.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
McTavish nosed past the door and greeted Greg in his own fashion. Greg turned to him with relief, needing a moment to get a grip on his emotions. "It's good to see you, too, fella," he said, rubbing McTavish's large head.
As though suddenly remembering her manners, Fiona said, "
Please come in. You must be chilled standing out there." She held the door open while he and McTavish came inside.
"What a beautiful home you have," he said, looking around the wide foyer.
She smiled. "Thank you. It's much too large for one person. I've been trying to decide what I'm going to do with it."
"You'd sell it?" he asked in surprise.
"I'm not sure. My parents not only lived here, but my father had his office here, as well. I'm thinking about returning to school and finishing my medical studies. I could then use his office."
He looked into one of the front rooms, which was furnished as a comfortable waiting room. "Is there somewhere we could talk?"
Without a word, she turned and led the way to the back of the hall. She opened a door and ushered him into a sitting room that held many of the items he'd become familiar with at the cottage.
"What made you decide to leave Glen Cairn?" he asked, looking around the room.
"It was time," she responded. When he didn't comment, she said, "I never expected to see you again. Why are you here?"
He turned and found her standing by the door as though ready to escape. She looked much too pale, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. He wanted to ask if she had been ill, but hesitated.
Fiona walked over to one of the chairs and sat, motioning him to do the same. The chair he chose was close to hers. He sat on the edge of the seat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
"Are you all right?" he asked, unable to hide his concern.
Her face flushed, an endearing reminder of how easily she could be flustered. At least the color eased the earlier pale, pinched look.
"I'm a little tired," she admitted. "I've been busy getting unpacked and settled."
He took her hand, unable to resist touching her. "I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."
Her expression lightened. "You had a flight to catch. I knew that."
He took a deep breath and began to speak.
"My name is Gregory Alan Dumas. I've lived in Queens my whole life. My mother died when I was a kid and I lived with my alcoholic father until I was old enough to take care of myself."
MAN IN THE MIST Page 15
